


O Silver Moon

by deltadiva



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Genderbending, Love Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-15
Updated: 2017-01-15
Packaged: 2018-09-17 15:19:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9331169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltadiva/pseuds/deltadiva
Summary: Inspired by the song of the same title from the opera, "Rusalka", by Antonin Dvorak.I deemed it appropriate for my username to make my mark in the Bagginshield world. The idea of genderswapping Bilbo has intrigued me for some time; I rarely see anything related to it, so I thought to myself, "Why shouldn't I get involved?" So here I have a broody prince and a sassy Hobbit spilling out their deepest love confessions under the light of the crescent moon (it takes place the night that Elrond read the Moon Runes on the map).This fic had started several months ago, and recently I added some changes to it. I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I have enjoyed working on it! :)





	

Bilba Baggins was restless. Even though they were at a safe distance from the Orc pack that had chased them down, she was unable to sleep. Sighing, she stood from her bedroll and pinned a lilac shawl on over her white chemise. _Perhaps a walk will clear my mind_ , she thought as she snuck out of her bedroom, her blessed little Hobbit feet aiding her in a quiet escape from thirteen snoring dwarves.

Rivendell was a beautiful place, more so than the Hobbit lass could have ever imagined. Bilba had always been interested in the Elvish ways for as long as she could remember. As a little girl, she would find herself attempting to run past the familiar trees and fields of the Shire in search of Elves before her mother Belladonna would drag her mud-covered daughter back to Bag-End to get a bath and a lecture. She giggled to herself, wondering how her mother would react to the mess that she got herself into now. _Probably turning over in her grave right now_ , she thought.

Bilba passed by many beautiful buildings, including the rather large one that housed the kind and generous Lord Elrond and his family. After crossing a bridge or two, she came across a little waterfall that poured into a wading pool. The pool was part of a brook which stretched about a mile before it connected to the main river. Sighing, she tucked her skirts under herself before she sat at the edge of the pool, her furry toes wading in the cool stream.

“I could certainly retire here one day,” she mused softly, resting her hands on her lap. Looking up into the sky, all she could see was a blanket of stars stamped with a crescent moon, silver and shining bright. As she gazed at it, her thoughts turned to her sleeping dwarf friends. 

It was true that she was not exactly held in esteem by most of them, but the few that remained chose to seek her friendship. She had grown fond of Bombur’s cooking and Bofur’s silly stories; Ori was in the process of knitting her a pair of mittens before their departure, which Bilba was very grateful for. The poor lass was still a bit intimidated by the seasoned warriors Bifur and Dwalin, but they were begrudgingly polite to her, especially since Bifur was unable to speak the Common Tongue due to an old head injury. Balin, of course, was a very respectable dwarf, treating her with the utmost respect and kindness. Others, like Nori and Dori, or Glóin and Óin, were still a bit unsure about allowing a female to join them on their quest, but Bilba had hopes that they would come around one day. 

Ah, but let’s not forget those two, she thought. Fíli and Kíli were a pair of troublemakers, much like fauntlings who had nothing better to do than hide toads in beds and steal apple tartlets from under their mother’s nose. Still, they were very sweet, and she had come to admire their displays of brotherly affection. _At least Kíli no longer calls me “Miss Boggins”._ She thought this with a light chuckle vibrating in her throat.

However, one dwarf still perplexed and mystified her, and it was none other than Thorin Oakenshield. Ever since she handed over the signed contract to Balin, he had hardly said anything to her. And when he did say something, he would always refer to her as “Miss Baggins” or “Halfling”, mostly without even looking in her direction. He was always scowling and brooding, and he kept himself distant from everyone except the few dwarves that he was related to or familiar with. If he cracked a smile or chuckled, she was sure that it was meant for someone else. She would never truly understand him, not one bit.

“I don't even think he likes me,” she muttered, taking a small stone and skipping it across the water. “Yet I...I cannot allow myself to dislike him.”

Bilba would not admit it aloud, but she did find Thorin’s wild looks quite appealing, with his dark locks and stormy eyes, not to mention his beard. Hobbit men didn't grow facial hair, and large dwarf beards made her itchy just thinking about them, but his was just the right length. His voice was attention-worthy, too: deep and rich, with a bit of an edge. When he and his comrades sang and hummed low about the days of old, when dragon-fire and ruin came upon them, her heart broke for all of them. The more she learned of Thorin’s daring deeds and perseverance from the many tales of Balin, however, the more her feelings for him developed. No longer was she merely interested in the prince, but she was utterly smitten. She wanted nothing more than to tell him so.

“Get ahold of yourself, Bilba Baggins.” She scolded herself, crossing her arms. “Don’t think such shameful things…” 

The faint sound of a harp being played filled the Hobbit’s ears, putting her at ease. Oh, how she loved the music of the Elves, so haunting and ethereal, as if from another realm. It touched her heart deeply. The more she listened, the more she understood that it was a song about the moon. Elves held the moon in high regard, and Bilba, too, felt a connection to it. It inspired her to write a few verses of the song translated into the Common Tongue. If she ever returned to the Shire in one piece, after the journey, of course--

Her musings were cut off by footsteps in the distance. They sounded like large metal-toed boots hitting the rock of the bridges. 

Bilba shot up, freezing in place. Now was not the time to have forgotten her little sword! 

“I-I know you’re there,” she called out. “Show yourself.”

“You have nothing to fear, Miss Baggins,” replied an all-too-familiar voice. Sure enough, out of the shadows emerged the future Dwarf King. “It is only me.”

She yelped and nearly fell into the wading pool, but she quickly regained her bearings. “Th-Thorin Oakenshield! You gave me such a fright!” She whispered sharply.

“Apologies. You left your bed, so I came to find you. It is late. You should be resting.” He said, looking down at her.

She looked down at her feet, too nervous to even look at him. “I-I could not sleep, I...needed a bit of a walk to clear my head.”

He raised a thick eyebrow in response, then he spoke. “Something is on your mind, Halfling?”

The Hobbit looked up at him now, a little flustered, but she nodded. “Y-yes. Um, I would like it very much if you would refer to me by name. My first name, if you please.”

The dwarf raised both eyebrows and lowered then just as quickly. “Very well. _Bilba_. Perhaps...discussing your thoughts would clear your mind. Then you should be able to rest easily.” He offered.

“I-I suppose,” she squeaked, in awe of how delightful her name sounded from his lips. “That is generous of you. Th-thank you.”

He sat down on a stone ledge nearby, motioning for her to sit with him with a nod to his left side.

She hesitantly obliged, tucking her skirts under her again. “You didn’t have to come after me, you know. I would have returned to bed before sun-up, at the very least…” She began, fiddling with the tassels on the hem of her shawl.

“I was awake, myself, and I wanted to know where you had gone. My first assumption was that you had decided to journey back to the Shire, but it would not make sense for you to go without your belongings.” He sniffed, taking out a pipe and filling it with weed. As he lit it, before taking a drawl of the pipe, he added, “It is my duty to look after the company in the course of this quest, and that includes you. You need as much rest as they do. Also, you’ve been so kind as to narrow down your seven meals to a mere three.”

“Hmph. I do think I can manage. I was fed very well today by the Elves, thank you.” She retorted, crossing her arms.

A soft grunt rumbled from Thorin’s chest. “The Elves certainly took a shine to you. I heard you speaking to them in their tongue.” His brow furrowed as he looked to Bilba, as if he were a father about to discipline his child. “I wonder what you were talking about...”

She was astounded by his insecurity about the Elvish race. Balin did mention in one of his tales an Elf king, Thranduil, who turned away from the suffering of Thorin’s people in the aftermath of Smaug’s attack, but Lord Elrond had welcomed them all in with food and a warm place to sleep.

“So you assume that because of that one Elf king, all Elves are the same?” She shook her head, clicking her tongue. “Hmm. Well, Thorin, they were more interested in the fact that I could speak Sindarin rather than what a pack of Dwarves were up to. We spoke of many things, but I left our quest a secret; I promise you that. Besides, Hobbits don’t care much about what goes on outside the borders of the Shire, but I am not one of those Hobbits.”

“Oh? What kind are you, then?” Thorin inquired, a thick eyebrow raised.

“Well…I have always been interested in maps, books, and Elves,” Bilba began. “As a young girl, I’d try to run off on my own adventures in search of them, but Mama would make me come straight home just to scold me about getting my best frock dirty. I was a bit of an oddity amongst my relations, close and distant alike. I still am, if I were to be honest...” She could not believe herself for getting so off-track, nor the fact that she felt open enough around Thorin to converse with him. 

He watched her curiously, a wisp of smoke escaping from his nostrils. “Sounds to me that you were quite the adventuress as a child. What, then, changed in you that gave reason to reject an offer of a real adventure?”

She bit her lip nervously. Of course he would ask that. “Well...things changed when my parents died. After Mama’s passing, I became more focused on the matters of Bag-End, trying to uphold the reputation the Baggins family had established, to the best of my ability. It would have been foolish for me to leave that all behind on a whim and run off into the blue. It wouldn't be fitting of a Baggins! Ah, but against my better judgement, here I sit.” She dabbed at her eyes with her sleeve. “Sorry, I...get a bit misty-eyed when I think of my parents. I miss them very much.”

Thorin listened to the troubled Hobbit speak. He did not know much about her, but her reasoning for refusing the burglar position made sense to him. His parents had been gone for a very long time, though he had hopes that his father Thrain was still alive somewhere. Still, it somewhat pleased him to know that she was getting more comfortable around him. 

There was a moment of silence before he finally broke it. “I admit to having...a problem of my own. I have trouble sleeping.”

“Oh.” She blinked a few times, having not expected such a personal response from him. “I-I am sorry to hear that. Being the heir to a throne of a vast, Dwarven kingdom, you must have m-many things on your mind.”

He gave her a nod before looking up at the moon. “Yes, that is true. In addition, I have rather… unpleasant dreams. You see, when I close my eyes, I see fire. I see…the sufferings and the deaths brought upon my people. Smaug laughs at my face as he hides the Arkenstone in the gold like it is a needle in a haystack.” His hands were clenched into tight fists. “Azog the Defiler and an army of Orcs wreaking havoc on Moria. I feel as though I have failed my people, being helpless to stop the destruction...and that puts such weight onto my mind. Will this company succeed, or will I forever be cursed with guilt of failure? The question haunts me so.”

“Thorin…” She looked up at his pained expression. “I-I believe that we will not fail. We will reach that Mountain! Even if it means we face the danger of Orcs and trolls and all of that…which reminds me, that Orc pack we came across today frightened me more than anything. Absolutely repulsive!” Her face twisted, as if she had taken a large bite of a lemon. “I-I mean, they are an ugly, mean lot with no manners and no feelings! All they know to do is kill things...it’s awful, Thorin. To think that they’re the cause of your troubled sleep...and this dragon, why I bet he’s no better! Maybe he’s too fat or too old to fend for himself now. That would make burgling a lot easier, wouldn’t it? It would take time to find that Arkenstone of yours, but it could be done!”

Then, for the first time, Thorin cracked a smile. A real one. He even began to laugh softly. “You believe so, Bilba? This must be the ‘courage of Hobbits’ I hear tell about.”

Bilba blushed, tucking a curl into her hair, which had been loosely pulled back and draped over her shoulder. “W-well...heh...you know, this is the first time we’ve had a real conversation. And this whole time, I thought that you didn’t care for me a bit.”

His smile faded a bit. “Oh, really?”

“W-well, yes! Since I’m a Hobbit and a lady, I thought, ‘Surely he thinks I belong in the Shire and not in the company of stubborn, grumpy old Dwarves!’” 

“Grumpy old Dwarves?” He echoed, puffing at his pipe. “So that is what you think of us?”

“No, no, no...not ALL of you, anyway. I like to think that I’ve been making friends with some of your dwarves. I’ve grown fond of Bombur’s cooking, Bofur’s stories, Ori's knitting. Why, Balin is nothing short of a gentleman!” With a chuckle, she added, “I’ve even started to enjoy the company of your nephews, though I do want to whack them with my walking stick at times.” She heard him snort at that remark. “As for the rest of you all, well...I don’t know. They’re probably not sure if hiring a woman was a smart decision. But at least they don’t keep their distance from me. You avoid me like an illness.” She put her hands on her hips. “As if the very sight of me could make you sick.”

He blinked at her a few times, opened his mouth, and closed it again. It made Bilba’s chest swell to know that she rendered the future king speechless.

“You are wrong.” He mumbled under his breath, his gaze elsewhere.

“Then what is right? I would love to know, since I’ll be following you from here on until you reclaim Erebor. That’s a long distance, you know. Look, I know I grumble and mumble about, but I am not used to this! I am used to sitting in my armchair with a cup of tea and a good book, and tending to my garden, and sleeping in a soft bed. I live comfortably in Hobbiton. That is my home!” Then her features softened. “Ah, but that’s just the thing, isn't it? You don’t have a home.”

Thorin's attention was back on Bilba.

“Your real home...it was taken from you by the dragon. By Smaug. And I want to help you take it back! I could do my part in this company, if you would only let me. I could help Bombur with the cooking! I know some home remedies for maladies that are too small for Oin to worry about. I could even help mend clothing and wash it. I-I’d even take up some training to use the little sword! I need to defend myself, right?” Then she placed a hand on his arm, expecting it to be slapped away, but the prince did not budge. “Please...give me a chance, Thorin. I question how much you all believe in a little Hobbit lady like me, but I’m sure that I have potential. Why else would Gandalf pick me?” 

He was silent, thinking of what to say next. After what felt like an eternity, his mouth opened again. “I have been unfair to you, Bilba. I see that now. And I am sorry for it.” He began softly. “But you should know that I haven’t been avoiding you. That is, not purposefully. I...well...” He puffed at his pipe, blowing a perfect smoke-ring. “You know, this reminds of the time I first learned the Common Tongue. It repulsed me at first; I had no interest in anything outside of the Dwarvish culture. The more I learned, however, the more I came to adjust, to appreciate the simple beauty of the language. Now I do not mind speaking it.”

“That is very well, but...what does that have to do with me?” She asked timidly, her little heart quickening its beat.

“Well...as much as it looks like that I detest you, I assure you...that is far from truth. I listen in on the conversations you have with the others, and there is more to you than meets the eye. You have a charm and wit about you, not to mention a striking intelligence. Your quick thinking did help us out of the mess with the Trolls, after all.” Thorin took the pipe out of his mouth and rested it beside him.

“Gandalf did save us all in the end, but...I did my best under the circumstances.” She muttered, quite pleased by his subtle praises.

“I’ve not had much experience with females, Dwarves or any other race. They all hold no interest in my heart. But you are unlike them, Bilba. You are...a ruby in a pile of quartz, a glint of gold in an ore of iron. You are a valuable asset to this Company...and to me.” He swallowed, waiting for her response.

“Wh-what? No, no, I’m nothing special.” She squeaked, hiding her face in her hands. “You’re being silly, Thorin.”

He rose, the familiar scowl back on his face. “Silly? I have been keeping this from you for that very reason. Do you honestly think I chose willingly to have affection for a halfling? No, I did not, but fate has always been cruel to me.” He glared down at the Hobbit, who merely gaped at him with bewilderment. “I felt it from the moment we met, that I had found my One, but perhaps I am silly after all.”

She gasped, covering her mouth. “Feelings?! Your One?” Her cheeks were flushing from embarrassment and her heart was pounding. She had the nerve to call him silly, yet she wanted to leap for joy that her feelings were requited. However, she wasn’t at all pleased with how his feelings were presented. 

“I cannot believe you, Thorin Oakenshield! You tell me this now, though you’ve made me feel that you could care less about me?” She fumed, getting to her feet. “Well, let me tell YOU, I most _certainly_ didn’t choose to have a broody Dwarven prince as the object of my affections!” She rose to her tiptoes, prodding his chest with a finger. “You just HAD to come into my house with your stormy eyes and deep voice and charm my way out of Hobbiton, didn’t you?” She felt a small amount of pleasure from his shocked expression. “You can slay a group of Orcs but cannot tell me that you care for me? Do you have any idea what emotional turmoil I go through? How my heart pounds when you are near? How terrified I am when your life is on the line? How much I think of you…?” She teared up again, cursing herself for doing so. “N-no, you do not. You’re so afraid of letting your emotions show in front of the others. You have that confounded Dwarven _pride_ to thank for that. Gandalf was right; it will be your downfall.”

“You...you’ve felt this way the whole time?” His voice was rough with emotion. “You fear for my life and care for me so? How could I not see it?” He ran his fingers through his hair, very flustered. “I am...so sorry…”

Bilba was no longer angry with him. She threw her arms around him, thankful that he was wearing his tunic and not a layer of armor. “Oh, Thorin...you doubt yourself too much. That’s why you never told me. You were afraid of failure, of getting your heart broken...you think that you cannot be loved. That is a lie.” She whimpered softly. 

“Bilba…” Thorin’s voice cracked with emotion, his strong arms enveloping her in a secure embrace. “Forgive me for being so harsh to you, so careless.” His deep blue eyes sought comfort in Bilba’s pools of hazel, his hands resting on her upper arms. “I was trying my best to deny my feelings for you, having thought that I could never be loved in return. I felt relief when you decided to stay in the Shire, until you shocked us all by running after us, signed contract in hand. I waged an internal war with myself, which could explain most of the cold shoulders I gave you, until I realized...I could not deny them any longer.”

“R-really?” She gasped, reaching out to feel his strong jaw, which was covered by a soft beard. “Oh...o-oh, _dear_.” 

He placed his large hand--one that has seen battle and hard work--over her dainty Hobbit hand, which felt smooth under his calluses. “Do you accept my confession, Bilba Baggins?” He asked her, blue eyes blazing.

“I...y-yes. I do, Thorin Oakenshield. I fully accept.” She uttered, a lopsided grin spreading across her face. 

He gave her a sweet smile that gleamed in the moonlight. “Come closer. Do not be afraid of me.”

The Hobbit obeyed her new suitor, scooting close until she could feel his warmth and his heart beat. “I am here. I am not afraid.” Her eyes lingered on a set of lips hiding amidst a forest of fur. Without realizing it, she slowly rose to her tiptoes again.

It was as though the king could read minds, for he had bent his head down and tilted it so she’d have better aim. He knew what was coming, so he watched as the Hobbit closed her eyes and went for a kiss. Their lips met, then his eyes flew shut, as he took in the beautiful feeling of two rose petals brushing against him.

His lips were soft in contrast to all the other parts of him, Bilba noticed, which thrilled her to no end. She draped her arms around his neck, feeling a pleasant tingle down her spine when he held her by the waist. Their lips connected again and again, until the poor maiden felt the air run out from her lungs.

“Oh...Thorin…” She whimpered, hiding her face in his shoulder and clinging to him desperately. 

“My _ghivashel_...my treasure above treasures.” He whispered in her ear, grinning when it turned a blushy pink under the moonlight. “The worries of the world have slipped away if only for a moment because of you.”

“I feel the same.” She sniffled, looking up at him. “L-let’s go back to the room, but I’d like to move my bedroll closer to yours…I don’t want to spend another moment without you.”

“It will be done.” He agreed, offering his arm to her, which she happily hooked hers with. “I think it will help me to rest, as well.”

Once they had reached the large bedroom, the two carefully rearranged their bedrolls and blankets beside each other. As he was removing his boots, Thorin found himself blushing as Bilba removed her shawl, revealing her thin chemise to him. 

“It is alright.” She assured with a smile, laying down on the mat and putting a blanket over her. “Ooh, the night air...it’s brisk.”

He carefully lay beside her, covering himself up with his fur-lined cloak. Smiling gently, he opened it up for her. “It is quite warm under here, Bilba.”

She snuggled close to him, humming when she felt the cloak and his arm wrap around her. “Yes, it is. Much better.” Their eyes met once more. “I wonder what the others will think of us?”

“Hmm...tomorrow we shall discuss it with them. I cannot estimate that all of them would approve.” Thorin replied.

Bilba gulped, nodding. “Y-yes, I believe you are right. I will prepare my heart for anything that comes my way. Uh, Thorin?”

“Mm?” He raised an eyebrow, idly stroking her curls. 

“Oh, you silly Dwarf, you make it hard to speak when you...do those things.” Her eyelids fluttered, enjoying his petting immensely. “I wanted to say, that...I-I love you.”

Thorin let out a soft grunt in surprise, then his eyes crinkled as he grinned. It was a beautiful sight under the glow of the moon. “I love you, Bilba. I am your silly Dwarf until the end of our days.”

"My silly dwarf, indeed." She giggled softly, then she started to kiss his beard thoroughly before landing right on his lips. “Mmm...my King Under The Mountain.”

His chest rumbled with a soft, pleased groan, and he wrapped both arms around her to give a few kisses of his own. " _Amrâlimê_ …” He panted softly. “My love. That phrase from your lips...sounds like heaven.”

“Oh, _Thorin_!" Bilba squeaked, her heart flittering about like a mad bird trapped in its cage. “That must be your language. You called me _ghivashel_ , as well...your treasure above treasures. It is beautiful.” She noticed that his tunic had shifted a bit, revealing a dark crop of chest hair. “And so is this...it reminds me of a sheep's wool.” She stroked it with her little fingers.

Thorin found himself blushing again, watching her pet him like a dog. “I-I am glad you like it. Dwarves take pride in how much hair they have on them. I do not have as much as others, but--”

“Shush, you.” Bilba placed a finger on his lips. “You are perfectly hairy enough for me. Any more, and I would be sleeping next to a bear.”

He chuckled at that. “Speaking of which...we should sleep. Your closeness will keep the bad dreams at bay.”

“Agreed. Goodnight, Thorin.” She smiled at him. “My dearest Thorin.”

“Goodnight, Bilba.” He whispered, curling around her protectively. 

They slept in each other’s arms that night, no longer plagued with bad dreams or troubling thoughts.

♥♥♥♥♥

**Author's Note:**

> There is a second part that I had started, but it could use some serious editing. I am not sure if I should post it. What do you think? Let me know if I should, because I need the extra confidence to sit down and work on it.


End file.
